Nailed Down
by evilspawnessie
Summary: Dean and Sam go to Hastings, UK, to help a friend of their father's. At the same time the Doctor and Clara, and Sherlock and John happen to go to the same city to investigate the same case. (SuperWhoLock)
1. Chapter 1

Sam chuckled as he watched Dean get off the ship. "You should really get over your fear of flying!" he yelled at his brother. "It would save us some time."

"Shut up," Dean retorted. "There's no way I'm ever getting back on one of those flying hell machines." He picked up his bags and started walking towards his brother. "Plus, with all the security check at the airport these days there's no way we could have brought all of our 'gear' along."

"Whatever," Sam smiled. The brothers started walking toward the parking lot.

"So, what do we have?" Dean asked.

"There are some strange murders going on in Alexa-" Sam started before getting rudely interrupted by his brother.

"No, I meant what car do we have? You can tell me about the case once we're driving to Lucas' house. That's where we're staying, right?" Dean asked.

Sam rolled his eyes and sighed. "Yes, and he lent us his old pick-up truck," he said, pointing to an old, dusty, green Jeep. Lucas was a friend of their father's, another hunter who had moved to Hastings, England. He had been a very capable hunter, but he was getting old and arthritic, and since he had not been able to find any good hunters near his new home, he had called for the Winchesters.

Sam threw the Jeep's keys to Dean and they climbed in the vehicle. "Anyway, as I was saying before your interruption," Sam glared at his brother. "There have been a string of murders throughout the past eighty years. On the fifth of November 1923 they found a young girl, Maria Smith, nailed to a tree, with her stomach cut open. Ever since then one person a year ended up having her same fate."

"And you think this girl started everything? So it's a vengeful spirit we're dealing with? Well, then it's easy, we find the bones and burn them," Dean stated as he wrote Lucas' address in the navigator.

"Not that easy. I think Mary was the spirit's first victim, I salted burned her bones anyway, but I still don't think it's her, and we've only got three days to find out who it was," Sam frowned.

Dean looked at him, with a slightly worried look on his face. "Did you get one of those psychic premonition things?"

"You know I've only been getting those when they have to do with other people… like me," Sam pointed out. Dean gave another worried glance at his brother before looking back to the road. "It's just," Sam continued. "A strange feeling I got. And you know, better safe than sorry, right?" Dean muttered his assent.

Sam felt a lot more secure about his feeling now that his brother wouldn't oppose him or try to convince him differently. Dean on the other hand was worried about his brother, he seemed more wary than usual, and it disturbed him more than he cared to admit. He didn't want to get in his younger brothers way when he was in this mood.

Sherlock and John were sitting on the train. Sherlock was deep in thought looking out the window, while John hadn't been able to sleep and was feeling quite irritable. He still hadn't been informed about the new case Sherlock had took, and since he had only informed him at dawn that they had to leave for Hastings in a few hours.

"So what's this new case," John asked. Sherlock looked at him for a moment, his thought pattern had been broken and John immediately regretted what he had done. Sherlock gave him a stern look before returning to his mind palace or wherever his thought brought him. John knew how Sherlock worked, and he was completely devoted to his friend, but he still couldn't help being a little bit annoyed at him. John decided that it would be best of he tried to get some sleep, he closed his eyes and slowly drifted into a light sleep, rocked by the train.

After an hour and a half Sherlock shook him awake. "What, what is it?" John asked.

"I believe someone will die in three days," Sherlock stated, and continued to tell him about the string of murders since 1923. "Do you have any insights on this case?" Sherlock asked, once he finished exposing the case.

"Well, it can't be the same person who killed these people, so maybe it's some criminal organization that kills these people to commemorate someone important of their gang?" John said.

"Mh… The thought had occurred to me," Sherlock answered. "but we can't know anything for sure until we see the case files and anything we can dig up on the victims. The first victim, Maria Smith, could be the one that caused the other murders or the first one to suffer from them. Unfortunately everyone who could possibly remember her is dead."

John looked confused. "Well then how do we find her killer?"

"We don't," Sherlock answered, looking at John as if he was an idiot, but John only looked more puzzled. "John, it doesn't matter who killed the girl, they're also dead. If we concentrate on the more recent murder and find whoever is doing this, they can explain the rest of the story to us… if they know it, that is."

"What do you mean _if_ they know?" John asked, looking puzzled again, and still embarrassed about the stupid mistake he had made earlier.

"Well, it could be a copycat," Sherlock explained. "There never was a type of victim they chose which would make these murders easier. But the MO never changed one bit, and there never was a gap between the first killer and the other, or others, which make it seem like it's improbable that it's a copycat."

"But not impossible?"

"But not impossible," Sherlock confirmed. For the rest of the ride Sherlock was completely silent. When they arrived at Hastings they took a cab to go to Alexandra Park, the scene of the murders. The cab stopped at a traffic light, an old green jeep was in front of them.

"The last murder was almost a year ago," John pointed out. "Do you think you'll be able to find something there?" John asked.

"Yes," Sherlock replied, but gave no further explanation.

Wroop! Wroop! The TARDIS landed, making its usual sound. Out of her hopped the eleventh incarnation of the Doctor and Clara Oswald. "So, where are we now?" Clara asked, smiling. "And when are we?"

"Hasting, November 2nd, 2006," the Doctor answered, smiling.

"And what happens in Hasting on November 2nd 2006?" she inquired.

"The question isn't what happened," the Doctor smiled mysteriously. "It's what didn't happen."

Clara rolled her eyes. "Okay then, what _didn't _happen?"

"Well, okay, I don't know about what did or didn't happen today," the Doctor looked slightly embarrassed. "But on the fifth someone didn't die." At this point Clara looked utterly confused, and raised an eyebrow as to ask the doctor for further explanation. "Come on, Clara, have you never heard of the string of murders in Hasting, every year, and yet it suddenly stopped in 2006?" he prompted her. Suddenly Clara's eyes lit up.

"Yes! I remember now! It was one of the biggest mysteries in England, at the time!" Clara exclaimed. "So we're here to stop whoever, or whatever, has been killing these people?"

"Yes, or to see what stopped it," the Doctor said.

"But why not come here on the fifth?"

"Well, first because I love the feeling that something great is going to happen, when you can _feel_ the excitement building up in the air," the Doctor had started walking down the road, Clara walked beside him. "And secondly I want to play detective," he gave her a big childish smile. Clara shook her head and let out a big sigh in fake frustration.

"So where are we going right now?"she asked.

"Victoria park, where it all started," the Doctor said, smiling sadly. As soon as she looked away his smile became a frown. They crossed a road, passing in front of an old green Jeep.


	2. Chapter 2

"We should go to the murder scene before we head to Lucas' house, right?" Dean proposed. Sam nodded, not fully concentrated on what his brother was saying, watching a young guy dressed like an old man and wearing a ridicules bowtie crossing the road with a pretty young girl. When the light finally turned green Dean headed toward Victoria Park. They passed by the odd couple again.

"How does a hot girl like her go for a guy like that?!" Dean wondered, who apparently had also been observing the two. Sam just shrugged and shook his head, before noticing that Dean wasn't heading towards their friend's house.

"Where are we going?" he asked, looking confused.

"To Victoria Park, I asked you two minutes ago if we should check the place out," Dean responded, giving his an odd look.

When they arrived at the park they headed towards the tree the last victim had been nailed to. Sam had brought with him a map with all of the locations of the victims that Lucas had gave him. Halfway to their destination Sam asked his brother: "Did you notice as well the two men that seem to have been following us?"

Dean nodded. "Do you think they're possessed?"

"Maybe," Sam shrugged, glancing back at the two men. One of them was tall and thin0, with curly black hair and sharp features, while the other one was short and stumpy.

"Let's wait and see if they make a move," Dean suggested. "They could just be a couple out for a walk."

"Those two men in front of us seem headed our same way," John observed.

"Yes, and it seems to me they think they're being followed, probably they think we're the ones following them," Sherlock stated. "They're brothers, Americans, do some sort of job that requires physical activity and weapons."

John looked at him in surprise. "How can you tell?"

"We've been behind them since the stoplight, the driver seemed to be confused when driving, which showed that he isn't English, and I heard their accent when they we're talking to each other. American. Must I go on? Trying to explain such basic things to you gives me a headache, why can't you just _look_, John!" Sherlock snapped. It appeared to John that he was most definitely in a bad mood.

"So, what should we do about them?" John asked.

"Nothing. We continue with our own business," Sherlock answered.

"But what if they know something about the case?" he insisted.

Sherlock looked at his friend with a curious expression. "Why hadn't I thought of that?" he murmured, more to himself than to John. "Let's wait to see if they stop at the same tree we're going to."

They continued their walk in silence, and when they arrived to the murder scene of the year before, not to Sherlock's surprise, the two men also stopped. The shorter one of the two (that was still considerably tall), pulled a strange object out of his pocket. The man glanced suspiciously at the detective and his friend, who were calmly observing him.

"What do you want?" the man asked Sherlock aggressively, walking up to him.

"Sherlock just held out his hand. "My name is Sherlock Holmes."

"Dean Winchester," the man shook Sherlock's hand. "And that over there's my brother Sam," he introduced, pointing to his brother that was standing behind him.

"And I'm John Watson," John presented himself since it seemed, to his great annoyance, that Sherlock had forgotten him. Dean gave him a curt nod to greet him.

"What do you know about the Alexandra Park murders?" Sherlock asked he brothers.

Sam and Dean gave each other a nervous glance. "Only what the newspapers say," Dean answered. "Why do you want to know?"

Sherlock looked at him coldly. "Now why don't you try telling me the truth?"

"Who are you?" Dean narrowed his eyes suspiciously.

"I'm a consulting detective with the police," Sherlock answered.

"There's no such thing as a consulting detective," Dean scoffed.

Sherlock glared at him. "I'm the only one in the world, I invented the job."

"Yeah, well I'm a hunter," Dean snapped, resulting in Sam giving him a shocked look and whispering "Dude!"

Sherlock raised an eyebrow. "What interest could a hunter possibly have in a murder case?"

"Supernatural creature hunters," Sam specified for his brother.

"You two are mad!" Sherlock snorted.

Behind Sherlock someone exclaimed. "No, _I'm _a madman!"

All four men turned to see who had spoken. It was the odd man again and the pretty girl was standing next to him, shaking her head and smiling. "I'm the Doctor," he smiled. "And this is my companion, Clara."

"Oh, thank God!" Dean laughed with relief. "I knew that a chick as hot as her would never be with someone like you voluntarily!" The Doctor looked confused and Clara narrowed her eyes for a moment, trying to understand what Dean meant. After a couple of seconds she understood that he thought she was a prostitute.

"Hey! I'm not that sort of companion!" She exclaimed, offended. "I've been travelling with him." Behind Dean, Sam started snickering at his brother's mistake. Clara looked at him. "And what are you laughing about?" She snapped, making his instantly shut up.

Sherlock sighed at the brothers and turned towards the Doctor. "Doctor who?" he asked.

"Just the Doctor," he smiled. "So you four are investigating the murders?"

"Yes," John piped up, tired of being ignored.

"But not together!" Dean explained quickly, as if he was embarrassed to think he and the 'consulting detective' could possibly work together.

"Well then why don't the six of us work together! We would probably get to the end of this much faster," the Doctor pointed out, then he lowered his voice and became suddenly serious. "We only have three days, we should probably end this before someone else gets killed."

"Are you a detective of some sort, or just an amateur?" Sam asked.

"Oh, no, nothing of the sort," the Doctor answered. "I'm a time travelling alien."

The men started at him with a weird expression on his face. "You're right, you are a madman," Dean said, to which Sherlock replied: "Says the 'supernatural creature hunter'."

"I'm done!" John burst out. "I'm standing here with a man who is more a robot than a human, two man who claim that they hunt ghosts,-" "Supernatural creatures," Dean corrected him. "- And a madman dressed like an elder who says he can travel through time and comes from a different planet! That's a bit too much even for me," he turned towards Clara. "Please, tell me that at least _you _are sane!"

"The Doctor is telling the truth," Clara said. "I went travelling with him in a in a big blue box!"

"I'm out of here," John sighed and started walking away.

"John, come back!" Sherlock called out. John turned around angrily. "Sherlock, ever since we got this case you've been treating me like crap, so no, I won't come back until I feel like it!"

Sherlock looked at him sadly. "We have reservations at-, " "I know!" John yelled before storming off.

Dean decided that that would be the best time to see if anyone was possessed, when, of course, it wasn't at all the best time. "Cristo!" He exclaimed. Sam glared at him while the others looked at him with a questioning expression. Dean just shook his head and shrugged. "So you travel in a big blue box, huh?" he asked the doctor in a mocking way.

"She's called the TARDIS," he answered, annoyed that no one would believe him and Clara. "We can show her to you." Sam and Dean looked at each other. "Sure," Sam answered.

The Doctor smiled and started walking to where he had left the TARDIS, Clara walking beside him and the Winchester brothers following, after a couple of steps Clara noticed that Sherlock hadn't moved. "are you coming?" She smiled insecurely. Sherlock thought for a moment, the looked at the direction John had left. "I should go find him," he said, but sounded unsure.

"He'll be fine," Clara said. Sherlock nodded and started walking towards the small group, glancing back at the way John had gone.


	3. Chapter 3

"Look, I'm sorry about that thing I said earlier," Dean said nervously to Clara, who raised an eyebrow. "What, when you called me a prostitute?" she replied mockingly.

"Yeah, that," he answered looking down at his shoes embarrassedly.

"It's not a problem," Clara gave him an amused smile. After a bit they arrived at a small side road with a dead end. in one of the furthest corners sat a blue box with 'Public Police Call Box' written on it.

The Doctor walked up to it and gave the box an affectionate pat on the side. "Hello, sexy," he said to it, then turned towards the group behind him. "Here she is!"

"He should really go to a nuthouse," Sam whispered to his brother, who smirked and nodded. The Doctor unlocked the door and walked in, followed by Clara. When she noticed that the others weren't following them she walked back to the doorway. "Don't you want to come in?"

"I don't think the five of us will fit, sweetheart," Dean commented.

"You'll be surprised of how well we'll fit," Clara smiled mysteriously, before turning around and going back in the box. The three men gave each other an uncomfortable look.

"Well, what's the worst thing that can happen," Sam shrugged before following Clara. A few moments later he came back out, looking completely shocked. He walked around the blue box before going back in. This time Dean followed him, wondering what had struck his little brother, and Sherlock followed behind him, also wondering what had caused Sam's reaction.

They found themselves in a gigantic round hall with an odd column surrounded by some sort of control panel in the center. Next to it the Doctor and Clara stood, smiling at their reactions.

Dean grabbed his brother and pulled him out of the TARDIS. "This ain't normal man," he said to his brother once they were halfway back up the alleyway.

"Do you think this Doctor guy might actually be who he says he is?" Sam asked.

"You mean like an actual alien, from outer space? It can't be!" Dean exclaimed, to which Sam shrugged and said: "Well, why not?"

"Last time we dealt with an alien, there was a trickster in town, what if the Doctor is one of them?" Dean supposed.

"No, he doesn't act like one, and Lucas would have noticed if there were signs of a trickster," Sam pointed out.

"What's a trickster?" a voice sounded behind them. The Winchester brothers turned in surprise, caught unaware that someone was listening to them. Sherlock gave them an inquisitive look, waiting for them to answer his question.

"Didn't your mom ever teach you not to eavesdrop?" Dean snapped.

"No," Sherlock answered in a matter of fact tone. "Now would you please answer my question?"

"It's a demigod," Sam answered, making no sign of saying anything else on the subject.

Sherlock smiled scornfully. "What next? Are you going to tell me next? That angels are real and that the apocalypse is coming?" he said in a derisive tone of voice. Sam and Dean stood in front of the detective in silence and gave each other an uncomfortable look. "Oh, come on!" Sherlock grumbled. He then looked at them for a few moments then sighed and slowly massaged his temples. "I honestly don't know what to think anymore," he sighed. "I've been tricked to before," he said, thinking about his old arch-enemy Moriarty. "But neither of you seem to be criminal masterminds, and neither does the Doctor. But I know what I saw, and there's something not right about… about _anything_ that's going on in this case.

"_We_ are telling the truth!" Sam desperately tried convincing him, but Sherlock just started walking away. Before walking back into the main street he turned back to the brothers. "I think it's best I work alone on this case, without you madmen slowing me down. Stay out of my way."

In reality Sherlock was shaken. He wasn't sure what was real and what was fake anymore, much like the fear that had overtaken him in the Baskerville case. By looking at the people he had been with just minutes before, they could easily be what they claim to be. The two 'Monster hunters' had military training, and that much was obvious in the way they acted, and they probably carry a weapon, and they were fit, probably they trained a lot… or maybe they fought a lot. But they made no actions that someone who would have actually fought in a war would have done. The 'time travelers' had a bluish dirt on their shoes that he had never seen, and the blue box _was bigger on the inside_. How was that possible? Things like that only existed in science fiction and the great Sherlock Holmes had no time for things like that!

He was walking to the hotel to go find John, but he knew he would never be able to give his full attention to the case unless he figured out what was going on with those madmen. But first he would go talk to John, hoping that it would clear his mind.

Meanwhile, in the TARDIS, Clara impatiently waited to see what the Winchester brothers would do. She was sad that Sherlock had left and doubted that he would come back. "Should we go talk to them, Doctor?" she asked.

The Doctor shook his head. "No, not yet. Let's wait for them to make a decision on their own," he answered.

In the ally Sam and Dean were still discussing what to do. "We should talk to Lucas about this," Dean said. "Maybe place an international call to Bobby or something," he proposed. "But what I do know, is that we shouldn't stay around these weirdoes. They can't bring anything but trouble!"

Sam frowned. "Or we could bring them back with us and keep an eye on them. What if they were the murders?"

Dean glared at his brother. "Fine, but you're the one who's going to convince them to come with us. And don't get yourself killed," he warned Sam as he was walking back towards the TARDIS. "I need a beer," Dean muttered to himself.

Sam stood in the TARDIS' doorway and smiled nervously at the Doctor and Clara. "We were wondering if you would like to come with us to our base, go through some of the stuff we gathered about the case."

"Sure! Tell your brother to come in and we can leave as soon as you tell me where your base is," the Doctor smiled, turning to the control panels.

"Umm, actually, we were going to take our car," Sam said, giving the Doctor a nervous smile.

"Oh," he said, looking confused for a moment. "But taking the TARDIS would be much faster!" he insisted.

"I must insist we take the car," Sam prompted them. Clara and the Doctor exchanged a look and shrugged, before following Sam outside.


	4. Chapter 4

Sherlock walked in to the hotel room he and John had booked, calling out his friend's name as he walked in, but John wasn't there. He walked over to his suitcase, opened it and pulled out the skull he kept above the fireplace in Baker street. "Good thing I brought you along to listen to me," he told it before putting it on his bedside table. "John will go mad when he sees I brought you along to listen to me," Sherlock smiled, before proceeding to tell it all the events that had gone on that day. At about halfway through the narration John entered the room with a big box of documents and newspaper clippings, he waited for a few seconds for Sherlock to stop talking to the skull and acknowledge his presence, but when Sherlock didn't he dropped the box on the floor, making a loud noise. Sherlock finally stopped talking and looked up at him inquiringly. John looked from him, to the skull and back at Sherlock. "Is that a skull?"

Sherlock saw that John was already getting angry, just as he had predicted, but couldn't help feeling annoyed with John for that dumb question. "Wow, you have _fantastic_ observation skills, John!" he replied sarcastically.

"I specifically recall telling you _not_ to bring it with us when we were packing," John said, his anger starting to seep into his voice.

"Yes, but I decided to bring it anyway," Sherlock answered calmly, but smirked inside his head.

John was able to gain control of himself and repressed the anger as far down as he could. "Put it away," he ordered, keeping his eyes closed and concentrating on his breathing so he wouldn't burst.

"Why?" Sherlock asked with a defying tone. John always felt the urge to slap his friend when he was acting like a spoiled brat, just as he was doing then.

"Because," he started, but stopped every few seconds to take a deep breath. "If room service… Comes in… and sees… your stupid skull… they will freak out… and kick us out AND I WANT TO SLEEP IN A BED, SO JUST PUT THE DAMNED THING AWAY!" John finally snapped and was giving Sherlock a murderous glare, and kept glaring at him until Sherlock, with a pouty look on his face, put the skull back in his suitcase.

Once Sherlock had put the skull away and John had gained control over himself again he picked up the box he had brought in and out it on the dresser. "I collected all the newspaper clippings and police case files of the string of murders. How did it go with the 'hunters' and the 'alien'? In the end they were all just mad, right?"

"Well, no," Sherlock hesitated, making John look up from one of the documents he had pulled out. "I don't know what to believe, the man who calls himself Doctor did have a blue box that was bigger on the inside," John just stared at him blankly, believing that his friend had a loose screw. Well, he always knew Sherlock had a loose screw, but this was a different kind of crazy. But then again he trusted Sherlock's senses more than he trusted his own, and if what he said was true and that odd man was an alien, that meant that the visitors from outer space were real, and as absurd as that possibility seemed to him, a part of him couldn't help but accept what his friend had seen (or thought to have seen) as true. "Are you sure of what you saw?"

"Of course I am!" Sherlock snapped. "But it just seems so… impossible. Nothing I've ever seen or heard of has ever _actually_ been related to aliens. And then THIS happens!" He was standing up now, passing his hands through his hair and pacing back and forth. He stopped and bowed his head for a moment, before snapping back up again, his blue eyes blazing with new energy. "Okay, I have a case to solve and two days to do it. Let's get to work."

He went to the box and started pulling out some files to examine them. But he still couldn't fully focus on the case, not until he was able to understand what was going on with the four people he had met earlier.

John left the room, knowing that his mere presence would disturb the geniuses work. The night was cool as he walked through the empty roads. A sudden chill took over the body, he shivered and closed his jacket. Something didn't feel right. He looked around him, the streetlights flickered, his breath was coming out in small, visible puffs of air. Then suddenly everything went black.

Sherlock found an interesting patter in the murders, it seemed as if though the victims would disappear two or three days before the murders occurred. He asked John to contact the police and warn them about this information, not realizing that his friend wasn't there.

_Author's note: Sorry about the short chapter. Also, sorry about the grammar mistakes, with the start of school I've been getting my English and Italian mixed up a bit, it will improve. I will also find a beta, if you want to be my beta send me a message. I hope that I will be able to write the next chapter soon._


End file.
